GET THE FUCK BACK IN THAT CAGE

indie, private, selective hughie campbell from the boys. loved by moon.

[awkwardcourage]

IN SOME WAYS... JUST RIGHT IN THAT MOMENT, IT... FELT KIND OF GOOD. WHEN I HAD THE DETONATOR IN MY HAND IT FELT LIKE A RUSH. LIKE I FELT ALIVE.

a study of the canary in its cage. the final boy. a breathing moral compass. good dogs who bite. kindness in hatred. fury in fear. the inability to let go. rage turned inward. nice guys don’t always finish last. a soft heart in a cruel world. gentle hands turned violent. a study of awkward courage.

INFO | VERSES | PROMPTS | BOARD | MEME BLOG | A03

INDEPENDENT, SELECTIVE AND PRIVATE hughie campbell FROM AMAZON PRIME'S SERIES THE BOYS. CANON DIVERGENT FROM SEASON 3 ONWARDS. WRITTEN AND LOVED BY MOON. 30+, ANY PRONOUNS. RUNS ON A QUEUE.

beloveds: @innerwar / @supegod, @monstyrious , @bloodsalted, @garglemyballsack, @citizenstarlight, @hom3land3r, @learningtodie, @handgiven, @worldsokayestdad + @soleiltm

credits for icons and icon border: @soleiltm, @citizenstarlight + @innerwar

[deliriumang3l]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕬𝖗𝖊 ⠀𝕷𝖔𝖔𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕱𝖔𝖗 𝕹𝖔 𝕷𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝕰𝖝𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖘.

#DELIRIUMANG3L ─── independent, selective, roleplay blog for Rebecca Philips(wraith, ghost, imposter angel), a fandomless horror oc created and penned by LIMINAL (forty +, she/her). 25+. no minors. no AI. EXTREME TRIGGERING AND DARK THEMES PRESENT. Drugs mention. Please read rules before following. Graphic credits: ©

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[vitalphenomena]

SPIRIT YELPS, BUT SHE'S LAUGHING A SPLIT SECOND LATER. It's a surprise, of course, but a pleasant one. She's so enamored with Hughie's kindness and gentleness that she certainly appreciates a reminder that he's alive and wanting and, yeah, stronger than her.

She arches her spine off the mattress, hips eager for contact. He's so sweet that she could drown in it. She certainly tries to when she kisses him back—a little sloppy, a little too eager. Her teeth bump against his and she wheezes a half-giggle, half-apology.

Her hands run up his abdomen, then down lower to his pelvis.

"Please."

[awkwardcourage]

A grin splits Hughie's face. It's good to hear her laugh, to have that visceral acknowledgement that this is right and good and wanted. He doesn't think he's ever seen her like this before- obviously not below him, straddled beneath his weight- but so eager. Vulnerable.

It's frightening and exhilarating. He doesn't want to fuck this up, for both their sakes. They both deserve a good time. She returns his affections, eager and messy, which is only endearing her all the more to him.

He moves in closer until his lips brush against her ear. "Say 'red' if you want me to stop? Okay?"

[supegod]

he's mid-stroll when hughie's hands wrap around his arm, tugging at it to stop him. and while he ─ even with hughie's increased powers ─ could easily pull out of the grip and keep on walking, homelander decided to stop when hughie suddenly changed his mind about explaining things.

before the phone was handed to him, he could already hear his own voice coming through the speakers, and as he took it to look at the screen, he saw himself. talking about having received some divine message and other delusional bullshit that he would never say. to the public, no less.

his eyes slowly widened in shock, not able to believe what he was seeing. a clone? how could there be a clone? how could he have the same powers? how the fuck didn't he know about this? was it vought? it had to be. no one else had the technology to pull this off. did vought fucking replicate him?! replace him?! it was the only explanation that made any sense, really. the only possible way someone could have overpowered him and thrown him in here, was if they were as strong as him.

his eyes shot up to hughie's chest, focusing on his heart-beat, not only with his hearing, but actually watching it beating through the layers of clothes and skin and flesh. taking in the surprisingly steady rhythm of it. the phone crushed within his hand without him even realizing the pressure he'd been putting on it, and for the first time in years, there was a hint of fear to his pale blues.

" ... you're absolutely sure he's got my powers? that it's not just vought using a shifter and special effects? " he knew all too well that vought could make anything look real, so he had to ask.

[awkwardcourage]

Thank God Homelander believed him. That was another hurdle out of the way. Now he understood that they had to get the fuck out of dodge, otherwise they'd probably end up right back where they started.

Hughie watched and waited, anxious. He never expected to feel sympathy for a man like Homelander, but there it was again, that twinge. He had no idea what he must be feeling right now. It must feel like he was on the brink of insanity. He'd been locked away for so long, and now he was coming out to find the world turned upside-down, his entire image and life stolen from him.

Hughie flinched and winced as he watched his phone get crushed in Homelander's fist. Perhaps he should have anticipated that. He didn't complain though. He stood in silence, waiting, moving from one foot to another as Homelander's gaze turned from the crushed device in his hand to Hughie's chest. He almost looked scared.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I mean, how else would you get here? There's no one that can take you down."

[supegod]

homelander was more than used to seeing blood. hell, he was even used to seeing the insides of people being on the outside. so the sight before him alone did little to unsettle him. it was more the way hughie acted, the way he responded, that seemed... off.

and then he suddenly went on, as if nothing was wrong whatsoever. as if he didn't look like if a cheese grater had just passionately made love to his face. as if he hadn't just shouted at nothing a moment ago.

for a moment, homelander just stared at him, as if waiting for hughie to realize why that suggestion was out of the question. when he didn't, homelander's brows raised in an almost questioning manner. " ... no. what, you really think i'll go on walk with you while you look like you've just been assaulted? no. no, you should stay indoors until all of that- " he waves a hand at hughie's face, mild disgust on his features. " heals up. "

[awkwardcourage]

Hughie met Homelander's stare, guileless and confused. He was quite used to Homelander staring at him by now, sometimes in confusion, other times in anger or disgust. This time it was expectant, but Hughie had to wait for it to be explained to him.

"But you do want to go on a hike with me?" That was a very nice surprise. Hughie was currently incapable of thinking ahead more than a few seconds at a time and he certainly hadn't thought about what whether Homelander would actually be on board with his suggestion or not; the fact that he would, just not while he looked like he did, brought a brief smile to his face.

"Do I really look that bad?"

[monstyrious]

"any time, buck." he's not quite certain himself where the name had come from, but it was easier than trying to slur between hughie and martyr in a way that didn't feel dingy and wrong, as if the things he had been before they had connected were something butcher was attempting to allow him a break from, if only in that he didn't have someone calling him one of those fuckin' names.

by the time hughie is offering to pay for whatever it is that he's offering for, the older man is shaking his head and already placing down a couple of crinkly, but stretched and attempted-flattened bills down to cover the drinks and the tip. something he still ain't used to about this fuckin' country.

"nothin'. c'mon. let's at least get ya home 'fore i letcha get yer hands on somethin' wilder'n a brew, eh?" a faint smile, and he's patting the kid on the back, gaging if he's able to really walk on his own.

[awkwardcourage]

Maybe it's an old man thing, maybe it's because it's the government's money, either way, Butcher doesn't let Hughie pay for anything. He wants to point out that he is very rich now, thank you very much, but it isn't an argument he's going to win and he can't be bothered trying to either.

He's a little drunk, but not nearly drunk enough; or rather, being drunk isn't what he needs right now. Alcohol cements him in his own emotions, dredges up all of those emotions from the tarry depths of his soul. He doesn't want that. He doesn't want to exist. Heroin will get him as close to that as humanly possible.

"You know, sometimes I can only tell half of what you're saying," Hughie confesses, walking along next to Butcher. "Like, does everybody talk like you do in London?"

[avasmess]

More times than not, it was the youngest of them all who preached some sense back into Butcher, comforted Kimiko and Frenchie. And even got Marvin off some dangerous track here and there. So now the tables turn. Going all Dr. Phil on Hughie isn't treated as cheap payback on Marvin's end, though, but a genuine endeavor to put reality's lens into his eye, replace that of panic. Guilt which is misplaced in this situation. He nods in response to what gratitude the finally relaxing stinker [seriously, did he sleep in the trash?] beside him offers. His loosely folded hands part as substitude of a shrug at that question.

"Can't say it would've surprised me", Marvin admits, a contemplative frown washing over his face. "This is a war we're in after all. And if there's one thing war does for sure, if you ain't careful? It's gonna turn any motherfucker with a heart into just a motherfucker." There's not the vestige of a lie in there, neither in the way Marvin ultimately subjects Hughie to a critical once-over in combination with a crinkled nose. "You smell like ass, by the way. Go take a shower, in the meantime, I'll grab us something to eat."

[awkwardcourage]

Huh. Hughie isn't sure what to make of that. It's funny, because he has killed people, supes and non-supes alike, but for some reason he still hasn't been able to change that view of himself, the one he's still so strangely desperate to refute. It doesn't help that it's reinforced by near constant reminders that he is the youngest of the group, the least violent, the most inexperienced. Maybe he can take it as a compliment, even though he knows M.M. didn't mean for it the one.

Hughie snorted. "Thanks. If you think I smell bad, you should see the- nope, nope, wait, fuck, that doesn't work. Okay. I'm gonna go shower now." It hadn't taken quite as long as it had done when he'd got covered in whale gore, but it was still a long fucking shower. Hughie came out of the bathroom with new clothes and a sigh of relief in his chest. "So, did I miss anything while I was on the run? Well..." They were already on the run. "You know what I mean."

[awkwardcourage]

Hughie hadn't really known what to expect. It had been a lot more cinematic in his head, a dilapidated lab hidden under the basement of an evil tower. The reality was far more horrific. It was just a workplace, sterile and mundane- and it was still in use.

He didn't know if they were stupid or simply had no self preservation instincts, because if he had been one of them? He would have faked his death, or at the very least, changed his name and fled the country. They, better than most, know what @supegod was capable of; yet, they had stayed, for unfathomable reasons. People even joined and when they discovered what they had done, to a fucking baby, they had decided to stay.

He didn't know their names, but one of them, one of the ones that had been around since Homelander's childhood, one of the few who were rightfully nervous, seemed to pick up on Hughie's growing rage. Hughie only caught half of what he said, but it was enough.

"-only following orders."

There's a collective gasp from the other employees as Hughie's fist ploughs into the man's face, sending him sprawling backwards. He probably wouldn't have done it a few years ago, but unfortunately for whoever the fuck this is, that time had long since past.

"He was a baby. A fucking baby. You don't do what you fucking did to another human being and say it was 'just following orders'!"

[my-whumpy-media]

[crabussy]

sometimes it's important to injure the character

[pnglove]

[mentaltimetraveller]

Cy Twombly, “Paesaggio” (1986)

oil and acrylic on wood panel, 69 1/8 x 50 1/2 inches (175.5 x 128.3 cm) (photo by Maris Hutchinson, image courtesy Gagosian Gallery)

[my-whumpy-media]

[avasmess]

Mingled tunes of carnival rides speckled with a myriad of voices of the other visitors keep ringing in her ears. It's good that Hughie suggested they navigate to a quieter area. The ice cream sitting in the cone in her hand, caramel flavor by the way, is in the process of melting. Or what's left of it. It's strange, somehow, to spend time with him again. But the mutual breakup was necessary. Annie can't ever look at Hughie the same, though. In a short period, they went through more than both their parents all their lives. Probably. "Yeah, me too", she says to his comment between blinking at him and taking a lick of the sweet cold. Cool, at this point. His question earns a one-shoulder-shrug. Annie has to squint, marveling at the distant shore and the water melting into the sky at the horizon.

"Well, it doesn't have a cotton candy pink beach, but", weighing the thoughts in her head, she cants it from side to side.

"You know. I give it a solid seven out of ten." Then she smiles up at him, although her mien sobers only moments later. "But.. How are you, Hughie?" Seems like a worn out phrase, so she repeats with emphasis. "I mean really. Have you been doing okay?" She tip-toed around that question all day, trying to have a good time without getting deep. They had to test the waters first, right? Just because they've had their differences in the past, major fucking problems on some days, doesn't mean he can't lean on her. Annie never stopped caring about him, even while they didn't talk for a couple of weeks.

[awkwardcourage]

A weird sense of pride washes over Hughie, the same kind you get when you show someone your favourite film and they enjoy it. It's not like Coney Island's his favourite place in the world, but it is a part of his childhood, a part of New York, and, above anything else, he's pleased that Annie's had a good time.

The question shouldn't catch him off guard, but it does. He finds himself staring a little longer than he should, blinking stupidly. "Uh..." He looks away, a lie bubbling in the back of his throat. He doesn't want to talk about it, but he also can't bring himself to lie to Annie. Not again, not any more.

"No. Not really." He doesn't manage to turn to face her again, his gaze off to the side. "I don't know how much you want me to go into it. I don't wanna ruin the evening, y'know?" He also doesn't know how she's doing, which takes precedent in Hughie's opinion. "Are you doing okay?"

[worldsokayestdad]

                        * 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗟𝗗'𝗦 𝗢𝗞𝗔𝗬𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗗𝗔𝗗 𝗠𝗨𝗚 𝗢𝗪𝗡𝗘𝗥 .

[bcmbsight]

"An interesting bunch." Robbie casually noted as he stepped closer, studying the young man curiously. "How did you get into all this?" He couldn't help but ask, the same question having rattled around his head when he'd been surrounded by the others and forced to defend both himself and Goldie. "Most people seem to worship the ground Supes walk on. But not you. Not your friends."

[awkwardcourage]

That was certainly one way to describe them; it was probably a kinder descriptor than they deserved. Bombsight took a step closer, but Hughie didn't retreat. There didn't seem to be any malicious intent, just curiosity. "I did," he confessed, looking away briefly. "Until a supe killed my girlfriend. Kinda puts an end to all the hero worship."

[stabheavy]

he's waiting on the outside. he looks even taller amidst the vastness of the landscape, on a hillside facing the moon and the stars. he also looks out of place, with the long coat and a threatening cane. it seems unreal to imagine him walking down the path trodden by sheep, and yet here he is. it's not like he dropped down here from the heavens...

he barely glances at hughie when he joins him outside, and if it seemed before that he was entirely unfazed by his shapeshifting, now it's for sure. he was waiting on a man and he was joined by a man. the only look he gives him is at the question, and that look betrays his unwillingness to answer that just yet. instead, he opts to pose his own:

"where is he?"

his voice calm, not desperate. his eyes resting on hughie inquisitely, as if to make sure that none of his subtle microexpressions escape them.

[awkwardcourage]

It's chilly without his fur coat. Hughie's toes curl against the cold, wet grass, his arms tucked around himself, trying to hide his shivers. His question is ignored. The haughty man looks down at him, all splendour and refined grace, far too good for the likes of a sheepdog and his co-owned flock. Hughie narrows his eyes.

He would be more curious about the stranger's complete disinterest in Hughie's ability to shapeshift or how he even knew in the first place, were it not for his insistence upon finding Em. He isn't one of the villagers, obviously, but that doesn't mean that Hughie trusts him.

"Thought you knew. You're the one who said he was out there," Hughie jerked his head to the woods. He could track him by scent, but he's not about to reveal that. "Who are you?" He insisted again.